"Are ye certain?" Ilsa asked, but did not hesitate to sit in the chair that had been set close by the bed. "I am no healer."
"Dinnae need to be. Just watch him for fever, for too much pain, for anything ye think worthy of concern. I have been given a fine wee room in the keep where I will stay for a few days until he wakes and looks certain to heal. If ye have need of me, I can be fetched right quick."
The door had barely finished shutting behind Glenda when it was opened again and Sigimor walked in. He sat at the end of the bed and frowned at Ilsa until she felt like squirming in her seat. If he ever planned to get married, he was going to have to do something about that stare, she thought crossly, for no woman would be able to endure it for a lifetime.
"Ye should have stayed abed longer, lass," he said. "This fool isnae going anywhere for a while."
"Sigimor," she said in a scolding tone, "Diarmot could be sorely injured."
"Nay, I dinnae think so. Glenda doesnae, either. Still, if ye must fret o'er him, may as weel do it here."
"So kind of ye. Has Tait returned?"
"Aye. Followed the men to a wee village. I have come to see if ye got a good look at the fools."
"I did. I made certain I looked hard and long at them and their horses." Ilsa proceeded to tell Sigimor everything she could remember about the men and their horses. "Do ye think catching them will be any help to us?"
"Mayhap, mayhap not. We have found so little in our searches that we were beginning to think there was no enemy, that tis nay but a plague of accidents, and the beating was only a robbery. This was an attempt at murder, nay question about it. The one doing this is clever, though, or we wouldnae be running in circles as we have or doubting if there is any enemy at all."
"Ah, and so these men may ken nay more than who pays them for their work."
"Exactly, but that someone could lead us to another someone and on it goes."
He got up, kissed Ilsa on the top of her head, and started toward the door. "In truth, the who doesnae bother me near as much as the other thing."
"What other thing?"
"How this cursed enemy so often kens where ye or your laird will be."
Ilsa stared at the door he had shut behind him for a moment before slumping in her seat and cursing. Sigimor was right to worry about that. The concern had crossed her mind a time or two but, she was ashamed to admit, had not lingered very long. It was alarming to consider the matter even now, but she forced herself to do so. There was a traitor at Clachthrom. In fact, Diarmot's enemy could actually be one of the people right here in the keep. She shivered for it meant no place was completely safe.
"Ilsa! Jesu, the men! 'Ware the men!"
"Hush, loving," Ilsa said as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed and stroke his forehead. "Hush, ye are safe now." She started slightly when he opened his eyes to stare at her, but saw that they were not clear and alert, that he was not awake. "Ye are safe."
"Nay, the men," he said, then sighed and closed his eyes. "'Ware the men.
Four of the bastards."
"Aye, there were, but they are gone now. Ye are safe abed at Clachthrom."
Diarmot continued to mutter about those four men for several minutes, but Ilsa finally calmed him. She knew he had not been completely conscious, but it was somewhat reassuring that he called her name and still held the memory of this latest attack. It would be nice if a few of those memories he had lost now returned, she mused as she retook her seat, but she would not hold out any hope for that.
Gay slipped into the room carrying Finlay and Cearnach. Right behind her came Fraser with a tray of food and drink. Ilsa joined the two women by the fireplace, feeding Finlay as Gay fed Cearnach, and sharing a quiet meal with the women. It was not long before Ilsa found herself unable to stop yawning.
"Ye didnae rest enough, lass," said Fraser as she took Finlay into her arms.
"Enough for now," replied Ilsa. "I just need to see him through the night, or until he wakes and is sensible."
"Cursing o'er his aches and pains and the need to stay abed."
"Aye." Ilsa smiled, then kissed each of her sons on their cheeks. "Howbeit, one good thing has come of this. We now ken for certain that someone wants Diarmot dead and we ken the four men who tried to accomplish the deed this time.
Tis a start."
Fraser nodded. "A path to follow instead of just trying to find the cursed path."
"Quite so. I ken I can trust ye two to keep this quiet and I feel ye should be told. Someone at Clachthrom works for the enemy. As Sigimor said earlier, what troubles him is how this enemy so often kens where I or the laird will be.
There is but one way, isnae there."
"A spy," said Gay. "A cursed traitor. And we will keep it quiet, ne'er fear, for we ken it could warn the bastard. Howbeit, we will also keep ears and eyes open."
"Thank ye." Ilsa moved back to the bed, stared down at Diarmot, and gently brushed a lock of hair from his face.